"
At the mention of the medicinal term he beamed, as if to intimate that
between themselves no secret need be observed that he, Mr. Rigg, was
subject to the usual anatomical laws of mankind.
"And--er--just call at the fishmonger's as you come back and get a parcel
for me, ordered this morning."
"Yes, sir," answered the faithful Marks, taking the prescription as if it
were a will or a transfer.
He knew his part so well that he moved towards the door and opened it as
if Mrs. Agar's existence and attendance in the waiting-room were matters
of the utmost indifference.
"Marks!"
The door was open, so that the lawyer's voice carried well down the
passage.
"Yes, sir."
"I will see Mrs. Agar now."
And Mrs. Agar was shown in, all bustling with excitement.
"Mr. Rigg," she said, with some dignity, "has Mr. Glynde been here?"
The lawyer beamed again--literally all over his parchment-coloured face,
except the eyes, which remained grave.
"When, my dear madam?" he asked, as he brought forward a chair.
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